


Interrupted

by BravoWriters



Category: Bravo Team (RvB OC)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Frustration, Vaginal Sex, constant interruptions, mount michigan erupts, swear to god if that communicator beeps just one more time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BravoWriters/pseuds/BravoWriters
Summary: All Mitch wants is a quiet evening in with Miss. Or rather, a quiet evening with Miss in her.WHY IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK?
Relationships: Agent Michigan/Agent Mississippi
Kudos: 3





	Interrupted

There is a hiss of air as the doors to her quarters open, and Agent Michigan is smiling before she even looks up from her communicator. “Hey handsome. How was your day?”

Agent Mississippi narrowly manages to keep from just dropping his bag right there at the door, opting instead to take the two small steps over to deposit it in his usual corner of Mitch’s room. “Long. Tedious. Dull. Like every other day that I’m not with you.” His eyes may be a touch sunken in, but it doesn’t change the soft look he gives her as he steps close, cupping Mitch’s cheek in his hand before kissing her long, soft and slow. 

Mitch meets his kiss with equal affection, nestling in against his chest as though she is ready to sleep right there, standing up in his arms. But when she leans back to look into his eyes, there is a new light there. “How are you feeling?”

“Depends.” Miss breathes the word against her lips, one hand sliding up under her shirt to rest at her waist. “What do you have in mind?” 

Mitch hums as she leans forward and lightly takes Miss’ lip between her teeth. She gives it a feather light tug and is rewarded by his warm hum, and the way his fingers tighten against her skin. “Well, I thought maybe we could start with --”

A muffled buzzing noise stops her mid-sentence, and Mitch sighs, kissing Miss one more time before pulling back. “Just one second. The Director has been debating the need for a medic aboard for the next Alpha mission. Price asked for my 'professional opinion' in the matter - dunno why he thinks it would wind me up. Told him that Agent Washington should be able to handle all eventualities, and I think that disappointed him, somehow. I will take especial pleasure,” Mitch steps back, pulling her communicator out of her pocket and firing off a couple quick words, “telling him that I’m going to be heading to bed, and will be ignoring my… phone… hereafter…” Mitch signs off her message with a flourish and tosses the device onto the bed, then pauses, retrieves it and places it on her bedside table instead. “Better have it out of the way. When I shove you over onto the mattress,” she purrs, striding over to him with more than her usual sway, “I don’t want you to get hurt. At least, not in a way that I don’t know you enjoy.” 

Mitch plays with the hem of Miss’ shirt, her brown eyes meeting his as she slides her hands underneath. She follows the waistband of his sweats, her fingertips exploring as far under as his drawstring will allow, grazing her nails over the sides of his ass. She smiles at the way he shudders, leaning against her as his hands likewise find their way under her shirt. “You are so tempting. You have no idea how badly I want to rip this shirt off you. How much I want to push you over, pull off your pants and ride you like a stallion, ride you at a gallop for days.” She does, too. It is no exaggeration to say that she has been waiting for this since the moment he left this morning, off on another day of his solo assignment for the Counselor, still on the ship but away from his team. Away from her. 

Mitch digs her nails in gently and pulls back, leaving unseen marks on Miss’ hips. “But I want to do this right. I want to do this slow. We have all evening and I want to use all evening.”

The moan that dies in Miss’ throat is shaming, but when he speaks, he only sounds hungry. “Promise?”

Mitch grabs the front of his shirt and jerks him forward, until their eyes are only inches apart. “Do you doubt me? I am going to--”

A quiet but insistent beeping rises again from the bedside table. Mitch’s mouth twitches, but she taps a finger against Miss’ nose in a “stay right here and don’t move” gesture, and walks over to look at her communicator. 

“Oh that bastard.” She doesn’t pick it up or read anything more than whatever heading shows in the notification. “Fuck him. I don’t care.” 

Miss sighs. “You should read it, Mitch. Who knows, maybe it’s important.” 

“More important than throwing you on the bed and making you forget your own name?” Mitch keeps up a low level grumbling as she relents and picks up the device. She clicks a couple buttons, scrolls. “Nothing. Just his passive aggressive signing off bullshit. I hope he gets a sliver in his dick.” 

“Speaking of dicks --” she starts, then turns around to see Miss trying to hide a smile. “What?”

“You. Just… you. ‘Sliver in his dick.’ Really Kel?” Miss chuckles a little more, reaching out for her hand to pull her back into his arms. “I love you to death but you’re such a--” 

“Bumpkin. Yeah, I know.” The sting that insult used to have is  gone now. It’s no longer anything but a term of endearment. And from his mouth, a dearly loved one. “If I’m a bumpkin, should I go find some sort of straw hat to wear while we bang? What do you think?” 

The comedic look of horror that creeps over Miss’ face makes it all worth it. “No. No hat. New rule - no clothes of any sort during sex. It’s automatic. If you bring a straw hat anywhere on this ship, I’ll know. I won’t even be able to get it up. So govern yourself accordingly.” 

Mitch snorts and hugs him tighter. “Soooo, no lingerie then? No lace, no satin that you can glide your hands over? Are you sure?”

She can feel the way he goes completely still, caught in a trap of his own device. “Okay, some clothes,” he concedes. “But still no hat!  _ Ever _ .” 

Mitch’s delighted laugh bubbles out of her and she knows when she pulls back, the very look that Miss will have on his face. That soft, melting look he gets when he sees that she’s happy, when all that he wants is to be able to see her that way forever. Luckily, she’s almost always this happy when she’s with him.

Well, and horny. 

She’s barely taken the time to meet his eyes before pulling him back in. Her lips meet his as her hands get to work, one massaging the back of his neck as the other slides down over the front of his pants, shamelessly checking to see how far along he is. The twitch under her hand tells her she has his complete attention but instead she removes her hand, pulls back enough to peel off his shirt. She throws it aside, and kisses him again, delighting in the way his hands curve around her back to pull her in tight against him. She breaks the kiss and tilts her head up while he nuzzles at her neck, open mouthed kisses hot against her skin. 

“God yes, El.” Mitch pulls at the drawstring of Miss' sweats, untying them easily, teases her hands under the elastic of his briefs, down to palm his ass and pull him even closer. “How did you get so good with that mouth of yours?” 

His hands come up to cup her breasts, drawing his thumbs overtop of her nipples through her shirt. He switches to the other side of her neck, doubling his efforts when she tilts her head the opposite way to accommodate him. “You said you wanted to ride me on the bed?” If she slid her hand back down the front of his sweats this time, she would find out how much he wants that. “Then let’s get in bed.” 

She steps back, and Miss’ hands find the hem of her shirt, hauling it up over her head and throwing it into the corner of the room. Mitch growls and pushes him backwards onto the bed, pouncing on him before he can manage to undress her further, straddling Miss and pinning him to the bed with her body. “Look at you. So beautiful, all laid out for me. So perfect.” She grinds against him, just to hear Miss moan. Mitch kisses him hard, then pulls back. “Under me, right where you belong. Where you love to be. You know I love to ride you. You love to be ridden. God, your face, El. It begs for it even more eloquently than your mouth ever could, poet or no.” She can feel the heat under his skin, and the way he flushes all the way down his neck makes her burn. He pulls her down, arms wrapped around her, just to reach her mouth. 

As Mitch obliges with kisses, his hands glide up and deftly unhook her bra. She lets the straps fall off of her shoulders, the bra still pinned between their bodies while his hands explore her bare back, fingers trailing up and down her spine. Mitch feels the rise of Miss’ hips under her, and smiles to feel him respond so quickly. She pulls back just enough to slide the bra out from between them, and it soon accompanies the growing pile of clothes lying on the floor. She feels his hands pushing up between them, and sits up so he can cup her breasts properly. Her head tips back and she moans. Encouraged, Miss sits up as well, bending his neck to drag his lips down to her nipple, take it in his mouth.

Mitch’s gasp nearly shakes the bed, and she shivers, hand cradling his head to support him. She looks down at him, mouth open as she watches, completely unable to keep up any sort of dominating façade. “Fuck. Goddammit Elliot.” The vulgarity drops from her lips like prayer, and she smooths his hair as he brushes his tongue over her nipple, sucks and pulls back to make a wet pop. 

Miss rolls them over, and Mitch ends up on her back, with him draped on top of her. Miss kisses her hard into her pillow, then pulls back as he reaches down to pop the clasp on her track pants. He pulls them off with one fluid movement that deposits them off the bed before rolling back on top of her. His hand quests down between her legs, checking Mitch the way she had checked him only moments before. 

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing along her slit, feeling the way she soaks through her cotton panties. “Were you thinking about me before I got here? Or did you get this wet this fast?”

“You make me wet in a heartbeat, but yeah. I’ve been thinking about you, about us like this all day. From the moment you walked out of the room this morning until you walked back in tonight, all I could think of was the feel of you sliding insi--”

There’s a sharp tone from the bedside table again, signaling a call instead of a text and Mitch's growl matches it as she slides off the bed. She kicks her track pants viciously into a corner of the room, picks up the communicator and glares at it. Brow furrowing, she puts it to her ear, motions for Miss to stand and to keep undressing. 

“What, Jersey?” she snaps into the communicator. “I’m kinda in the middle of something. Or at least I want to be.” She listens to her teammate on the other end of the communicator, staring at Miss continuing to undress, but seems to be looking through him, scowl deepening. 

“Wait, you called me for what? Why the hell did you think you needed me for  _ that _ ? Look, I don’t care what Alaska said, that’s not my problem. If someone fucked up and this happened on a mission, then it’s my problem! Until then, get your rope-burned ass down to medical, and make sure you tell them how it happened because everyone down there is pretty damn tense and could use a good laugh! Now if you don’t mind, I have actual important shit to do for the rest of the night, and if this team knows what is good for them, they will stay out of my hair. Spread the word. You’re grown ass adults, super soldiers. Act like it and figure this shit out for yourselves! I am officially off duty!”

Mitch smashes the “end call” button as hard as she can and walks her communicator into the bathroom. She drops it onto a towel, rolls the towel up and sticks it under the sink before closing the bathroom door. Holding onto the edge of the door, Mitch removes her panties one-handed, finally shaking the last piece of clothing off her ankle with a kick that sends it flying. She turns her stormy face to Miss. “Forget the bed. I’ve got a better idea.”

She grabs Miss by the arm and leads him over to the wall, pushing him against it and leaving her hands on his shoulders as she leans in close, their noses touching. “Stay just like this. Don’t move. Don’t even think about moving. Just stand here and enjoy it until your fucking knees give out.” Mitch’s eyes smolder as she winks, kisses him hard, and then drags her body down his, hands trailing down his chest as she drops to her knees. Miss, follows her down with his eyes, then sucks in a breath hard when he understands. Her hands catch on his briefs, pulling them down as she sinks lower, and Miss lifts each leg in turn for her to work them off, toss them aside to join her shirt and bra in the corner of the room. From her knees, Mitch’s hands slide up his thighs to his hips and back down again, eyes locked on his with a smile that makes it clear that she knows that he knows what is coming, and she enjoys that knowledge in his eyes. 

The feel of Mitch taking him in hand hits him like a punch to the gut. Miss exhales hard, and is treated to her most wicked smile.

“If you like that, just imagine how much you’ll like what comes next.” Mitch winks, then gives him a casual stroke, just to hear his breath catch again. “My god, Elliot. How easy are you?” She laughs, but he knows it isn’t at him. The love in her eyes could build kingdoms. 

He wants to respond. He wants to serve up some easy snarky quip the way she does so effortlessly, but Mitch gives him another stroke, and another, and his hands ball into fists instead, trying to hold in a moan. It’s glorious, the way she’s wrecking him with just a touch, and she hasn’t hardly even gotten started yet. And he can tell in her eyes, she is loving every bit. 

“Feels like you’re enjoying this, Elliot.” It’s almost too easy, the way that such a simple touch leaves her poet lover speechless. She keeps her hand moving, stroking him without pause. “But I know what you’ll like even more.” Her smile only breaks as her mouth opens, syrup slow, and she guides him in. 

Miss’ eyes go wide as she moves towards him, as her warmth envelops him. He nearly chokes on his own breath, as she gives him another, different stroke, humming contentedly as she takes him in, then pulls back. 

“Gnnnhh.” The shock of pleasure tilts Miss’ head back, and he nearly brains himself on the wall. He feels Mitch gripping his hips, taking him deeper as she strokes along his cock with her tongue, tilting her head to be able to caress even more of him. Any effort to try and hold himself together is quickly unraveling along with his sanity, as she takes him deeper again, her breath hot at his groin, hot as her molten mouth, hot as all his blood rushing down, making his head spin until hes afraid he might genuinely swoon. He moans, already wrecked, and encouraged, Mitch begins to really move. 

________

“Are you really sure we should be bothering Mitch?” M, not for the first time, considers jumping on West’s back. Not just for the pure fun of a piggy back ride, but also so she doesn’t have to try and keep pace with someone who, compared to her, has the legs of a giant. “It’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” 

“It’s fine. I have visited Mitch way later than this before.” West casually flips the pages of the book in her hands. “She’s probably alone and bored anyway, she’ll be happy to see us. Plus she loves stupid trivia, and there’s no one better able to answer this question. Relax, M.” 

“Relax? Hard to do when you insist on fucking trotting all the way there.” Her scowl is only skin deep through. It’s more just to make her friend smile. 

It works. West looks down, grinning, and adjusts her stride to slow down for her. “Is that better? Can your little legs keep up now?” 

M raises one hand, middle finger extended, and is rewarded with a burst of laughter. They turn the corner and are just zeroing in on Mitch’s room, when there’s a buzzing sound in M’s pocket. She pulls out her communicator, and frowns as she reads. 

“Just got a message from Del. He says that he’s with Jers at medical and he says that Mitch is in a mood and shouldn’t be--” She looks up in time to see West at the door, hand raised. “West, wait a moment, I don’t --” 

West knocks. 

_____

Miss lets out a full-throated groan, a single quiet low note that keeps going until he is nearly out of breath. One hand rests on the back of Mitch’s head, not to lead, but to praise. There’s no hiding the shakiness of his fingers as they stroke over her hair, brushing his thumb over her temple. He catches himself twitching his hips with her movement and forces himself back to stillness, afraid to hurt her in even the smallest possible way. But then Mitch goes so deep that her face ends up pressed to his belly, and Miss gasps, winded by the sensation, how good it feels. The way she dips her head, tilts back to meet his eyes, the shared knowledge of how it is driving him mad -- it’s filthy. She’s absolutely filthy, and he loves it, and knows that she knows he does. And in some strange small way, he falls a little bit more in love with her. 

Miss opens his mouth to try and babble out the idea of moving back to the bed, when there is a knock at the door. They both go still, their eyes sharing a very different piece of knowledge. Then without warning, Mitch pulls back so hard that there is a wet popping sound as his dick leaves her mouth, and he whimpers at the shock of it, and the sudden cold. But Mitch doesn’t even hear him. 

“God damn it!” She slams her fist into the wall beside Miss, just missing his hip. “God fucking damn it!” She pushes up, eyes ablaze and, still completely naked, marches to the door. Miss doesn’t even have the time to raise his hand to stop her before she’s already stabbing her thumb down on the open button. The door obliges, and opens with a cheerful puff of air to West and M. 

“What. The hell. Do you want.”

West and M look up into the face of a wrathful goddess. A naked wrathful goddess. Still leaning on the wall next to her, Miss closes his eyes and counts to three, then opens them and steps out to stand with her, shoulder to shoulder, folding his arms and leveling an equal glare at the intruders. West’s face is a rictus, her eyes glued to Mitch’s own, the only safe place for them to rest. Next to her, M stares at Miss, but far lower than his eyes. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Even though she only can see about 8 square inches of Mitch’s face, West can just imagine her body expanding like an angry cat, making the tall woman feel even larger, from sheer will alone. “Spit it out, West!” 

With West seemingly turned to stone and no answer forthcoming, Mitch turns her lightning bolts against M, who doesn’t even notice. It takes Mitch cracking her name like a whip to shock her out of her trance. 

“Agent Massachusetts! If you are just about done  _ sightseeing _ , would you kindly spit out the reason you are here!”

“Um. We- we were playing a trivia game, and were arguing about the number of bones in the human body. We thought--you would know?”

Mitch looks from her, to West, and back again. “That’s it? You interrupted us...for that? Are you fucking serious?”

M tries to glance over at her friend, but West looks like she’s trying to count Mitch’s eyelashes to keep from thinking about anything else that is happening. Left on her own, M swallows and forces herself to nod.

Mitch’s eye twitches and her hands settle on her hips in her “I’m lecturing” posture. “The human body has two hundred and six bones in it. Only mine is about to have two hundred and  _ seven _ if everyone would just fucking leave me alone! You both have AI, ask them the rest of your trivia! Jesus Christ…” 

Mitch starts to turn away, and Miss calmly ducks back out of sight the instant he can. But before she closes the door, Mitch turns back her teammates, and gives them a look so intense that it should have blown holes right through their skulls. “You don’t say a word about this to anyone, but you make absolutely sure that no one bothers me for the rest of the night, do you hear me? Because if I get a single message from anyone in Bravo, I will hold you personally responsible, West. And you know I have a million ways to make your life hell if you let me down. Now, get going.” Warning delivered, Mitch closes the door.

They stand there another three seconds or so, until M finally tugs on her best friend’s sleeve. “Hey, c’mon. Let’s get out of here. You heard her.” 

It’s like tugging on the sleeve of a statue. Through gritted teeth, West finally manages, “Is it over? Did we survive?”

“We looked straight into hell, into the face of the devil herself and lived. But not for much longer unless we get going! Come on, West!” 

West’s knees finally unlock, and M grabs her hand, pulling her along, a tugboat leading a destroyer. 

“Did you see her eyes? I thought she would murder us on the spot!”

“Forget her eyes, did you see his--”

A technician steps out from the next corner, and for one mad moment, M considers tackling him in case he looks like he might go anywhere near Mitch’s door. Luckily, he continues walking straight, away from her corridor, not even giving the Freelancers so much as a curious glance. 

“We gotta warn the others, otherwise you still might not survive. Grab your communicator and start texting, West.” M pulls out her own device, but then freezes, caught up in a memory. “Two hundred and seven. I gotta remember that one.”

____________

Back in her room, Mitch leans back against the door, smacking her head with a soft “clunk.” She stands straight again with a new scowl, but softens when she finds Miss in front of her, arms crossed, but head tilted to the side. He has that crooked grin that she loves, when he knows he should be serious, but she just won’t let him be. It is one of her very favourite looks. 

“Was that really--” 

“Necessary? Maybe, maybe not.” Mitch closes the space between them, looping her arms loosely around his neck. “Will it guard against any other interruptions tonight? Who knows! But-” she adds, combing her hands through his short hair, “I think perhaps we at least cut down the chance that anyone from Bravo will. That’s good enough for me, for now. C’mon--” 

Mitch drops her arms, one hand sliding down the length of Miss’ own to snag his fingers, towing him slowly after her towards the bed. “Let’s take the chance while we have it.” 

Miss’ smile turns soft, and as they reach the bed, he wraps himself around her, rolling them both gracefully into the middle of the bed, ending with her on top. “You still feel like-- how is it you say it? You wanna ride me at a gallop?”

“Oooo, don’t mind if I do. Want me to turn out the lights?”

“You’re not going to sneak on a hat are you?” 

“Can I?”

“No.” 

“Not even a cowboy hat?” 

“ _ No _ . “

“Damn.” But the sparkle in her eye doesn’t show a speck of disappointment. “Guess I’ll just have to ride my stallion without it.”

“Guess so.” 

Mitch leans to the side, finger on the switch next to her bed. She flicks it down and the room goes dark. 

“Giddyup.”   
  



End file.
